Creative Writing

       Hi! My name is Angel Maris Y. Tinay, HUMSS 12 L Tabal. This blog is connected to my website as part of My Portfolio 2. It is all about my written activities in Creative Writing. This page serves as a tool to upload long texts and avoid getting confused in Wix. This is also a creative presentation as all the works here are connected through a hyperlink from the website. Thank you so much!

  Short Story  ✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚ Cloud’s Couldn’t  Group Two        “Come on… come on… hurry up!” A loud bang was heard in the narrow space of the building where the three teens were standing nervously as one of them slammed the metal chamber of the hardlyguarded equipment. The machine is loading… 76%... 82%... 99%... as the machine slowly progresses to a perfect hundred, some steps can be heard in the outside of the room. Toot! When the machine worked and slowly unraveled the equipment, revealing blocks of gold and pots of silver, the door fell suddenly from a kick by a troupe of uniformed men. “There’s no time, Argus! Connor! Run!” one of the boys shouted, voice anxiously shaking. “What should we do? Father Bonks would kill us down there if he knew this!” Argus added as they breathlessly ran for escape. “We’ll die either way! Might as well die to where we came from!” “Wait! Where’s Connor?!” the two conversed while running for their lives, jum...

  Poetry 🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 "Nine" What happens to nine after passing the line of time? Will it find its wholeness, a circle, so perfect, complete Or stay in its longing, a change left to greet? This is a story of Nine.   Amidst the bright parade Nine blends and hide A repeating echo in the chorus where brilliance resides Nine drifts in the crown, walking in the dim Where every other figure claims the light within   Not quite a circle, yet far from a line Nine sobs in the dark where its dreams brightly shine Stucked in the curve between hope and despair A thriving arc of sighs in the endless air   In each moon, it chases dawn’s embrace, Its steps are steady, though it never wins the race It quiet struggle, it finds its grace Nine is found in an unknown, yet familiar place   With eyes blurry, shouting badly “Is there anyone now who can notice me? I’ve been tiring myself, working for years now Hiding in the shadow of pe...

Alternative Ending Score: 30 -ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- Little Red Riding Hood: The Wicked Story of the Past There is a little girl who lives with her mother and is loved by everyone, especially her grandmother. Her grandmother loves her so much that she gives everything to the precious child, including the red hooded cloak which she often wears as it suits her very well. So, she got the name “Little Red Riding Hood” from it. One day, her mom sent her to visit her sick grandmother. “Little Red Riding Hood, come and give this cake and wine to your grandmother. She is sick and this will help her feel well,” her mom said. So, the little girl went out to go to her grandmother’s house. On her way there, she met a cunning wolf who tricked her into saying the place of her grandmother. The wolf also told the little girl to pick some flowers around first for her mother and enjoy nature as the birds sing and the woods are merry. Little Red Riding Hood followed what the wolf had said, unaware of the consequen...

  Poetry Analysis Score: 100 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Blood is nothing. Space is all. Filipinos are beyond exposed to the fraudulence of leaders who have a higher power to use and a lot of money to spend. Whether it be from the highest government officials to the leaders, or more like bosses, of organizations and companies. It is undeniably true that Filipinos, as a society, are run by payola officials. To this dismay, the rich only become richer and the poor become poorer. It is a cycle that won’t stop until there are people who use their power in greed. This society is what’s featured in Cirilo Bautista’s poem entitled “A Man Falls to His Death” where a man committed suicide because of a superior abusing their power. It shows how blood is nothing – no one’s life is compared to the power held by a superior, and space is all – space and money are all that it takes to cover up a deceitful man’s crime.               On July 9, 1941,...

  Descriptive and Narrative Text Score: 100 ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ A Mother's Love The four corners of the room were silent – a standing man’s heart was thumping while the woman lying on the bed, face flushed and beads of sweat forming on her forehead, clutched the metal railing of the hospital bed. As the sun rose, the woman’s face could not be painted anymore. “You’re doing good, push a little more,” said the blurry Doctor. But wait, the room went silent as a loud cry was heard. The woman felt a rush of warmth as her eyes flew open and a slippery, red came out. That woman is a mother now.             In the field of contesting tall buildings, stood a mother and a daughter. “Mother, buy me this Barbie doll inside the box!” said the child . The mother took out her well-seasoned purse, got the two purple bills that the boss in the factory gave her, and paid the cashier. “Oh, mother! Buy me this paper-colored dress!” said the kid a...

Week 1 - Analogies Score: 100 ──── ୨୧ ──── 1. Our life is like a wheel traveling to different terrains as time passes by. Just as a wheel must turn and alter when taking a smooth or bumpy road, we must continuously adjust and persevere in the life we are taking. Each circles shape the path, showing how experiences and choices determine our journey.  2. Time passes by as oceans flow their waves. It will not stop and adjust its direction just because you want to. It continuously goes along, carrying opportunities we must seize before they drift away. 3. Knowledge is seeds scattered in fertile soil. Each has the potential to grow and develop. Just like how seeds need proper care and nurture to be a plant, knowledge should be thoughtfully cultivated. With perseverance and hard work, these seeds develop into a rich, vibrant, landscape of beautiful wisdom.  4. Waking up every day is like writing in an empty diary. We don't know what to put at first, but as the minute progresses, the...